Yellow, Purple and White
by Maeve-Juniper
Summary: Once upon a time, Canada knew who he was. Once upon a time, he thought the world would be wide.


When Canada first met the outside world, he opened his arms wide and he anticipated that the world would embrace him back just as ardently.

He measured his worth by how mirthful France looked as he was led around the land, as he met Aboriginal peoples and began to learn their language, as he watched them weave and hunt and praised them for their ingenuity. France was delighted, and so was the little nation. There was confusion, as France believed his name was "Kanata." He did not see _Anishinaabe Nakoda Dene_ _Tsuut'ina – _there were many, and more, and it seemed silly to Canada, at the time, that anyone could be confused. So he made a mistake, and when France asked if he could come back with _more _people like him—more yellow and blue and white—Canada thought of all the land that belongs to itself, and he thought of the wide green fields and wide blue sky and the wide blue lakes and France's open wide arms just before the grown-up nation would pick him up. It seemed as if he could really not refuse, France had seemed a gateway to a wider and unknown world.

Everyone else noticed when Canada changed, gradually. No one had the heart to tell him. They could not tear Canada from his new attachments, and at the time everything was still okay. There was a give and there was a take. But Canada noticed something. He noticed how France always asked for _more _and _more _and _more _but he still made an effort to fit in, he talked a lot about a Christian God. It was similar to the creator, similar enough that Canada understood and France would speak _more _and _more _and it was nice, to have a cross comfortingly lying near him as he slept.

But then it slumped. France came less. He would pick and choose what he liked, take it with him back across the waters. Canada would trail after him always, he would pick up what France dropped and he would hope France would look at him. France himself never stayed long enough to learn anything, he would stay long enough to trade one thing for something else and in those moments Canada could not understand what he was to anyone anymore.

Suddenly, all at once, Canada disappeared behind the world. He did not know this yet.

The world turned upside down. England was _there _and France said he would fend the English one off but Canada was, admittedly, curious. Yellow and green and white. He didn't know they could come in green.

England did not ask if Canada wanted him there, and neither asked him to choose. His people chose sides, and most of them chose France so Canada easily sways behind his supposed protector as he was already used to this, and he wondered when more English would come. He had seen maps of the world and it seemed strange he did not get more visitors. But he was always told how the ocean was dangerous to traverse and only the bravest and most advanced Frenchman could do it, though it looked now that if England could then maybe more would follow. Canada was unsure about England, he did not know why his people preferred France but if that was their will he would comply. It helped that he felt he needed to comply to France regardless.

But, before he knew it, this feeling began to fade into a light pulse, only accessible if he tapped into it, as war dragged on and on. Every move of England's sword awed Canada, implored him to come out from the bushes and join him on the side of the British Empire, _he _could be part of the global phenomenon, _he _could be a jewel on its crown and when Canada looked at where he came from, where he put his fire and laid his bed and where he hunted and what he used to cook, everything they brought seemed so, so _good. _

We know this already. England wins, France loses.

When England first looked, truly looked at Canada, it was a look so full of that coveted, delicious curiosity, that Canada was struck completely. When England told him they were family Canada imagined forever and ever, forever and ever…

…he imagined a sun that never sets.

England told Canada he was savage, and that he was there to raise him into civilization.

Canada looked at his reflection one day in a lake. He was now yellow and purple and white.

We know this, too: he meets America, who is unimpressed. England loses interest. Canada disappears once more. He disappears into what it is to be a subject of the British monarch. No one but the Americans, the British, the Germans, Scandinavians or the French were allowed in. In glimpses Canada saw Germany, the third grown nation. He was yellow and blue and white and he confirmed everything Canada knew about what was _better _about the wider world. The older nation worked sometimes at the mines and built infrastructure and England told him that the Germans were the _right _kind of people but that Canada was still too young to work with him and so when Germany did leave, never to stay for long periods of time again, Canada never spoke to him. But, surely, he must have known the little nation existed there, even when hidden.

Time moves on and Canada grows tiny bit by tiny bit, and America comes around more to try and convince him of something grander about the world but what else could there be? The English provided, the settlers supplied. He was in a bliss of yellow and green and white. The sun, the sea and the clouds, what a wide world. But it was not wide enough for Alfred, and then Canada's world shrinks again, it is just him and England and their consorts.

It was pleasant to learn about far off places in textbooks and how pleasant was it to live in such a gracious place? It numbs out anything else, England visits far, far less. Words meld together and Canada cannot keep them straight anymore, each language is a vase that trickles into one another and at the bottom of these vases is him, overflowing.

When word carries of a war which blocks England out, Canada travels to him with the help of the Netherlands, who does nothing to introduce himself, so Canada does not consider him. Instead he goes to England's side, he comes close to no one. He sees them, the rest of the world reflecting back at him, ignores their stern faces and continues with what he is meant to do, what he was always meant to do. Time passes again, and he meets his "brothers" and "sisters" and they are pleasant, too. Some of them look like England and Canada wonders to himself why he doesn't look so much like his caretaker after all. What a strange thing.

The world closes again, only for a short while. As a "young man" Canada formally meets his fourth grown nation.

She is not what he expects.

"You're physically capable now, of undertaking the much needed growth of agriculture this dominion needs in order to advance. To put it shortly, we need farmers. Ukraine is in need of some retreat from her own situation, she will teach you."

Ukraine not a small woman. Her shoulders are broad, arms strong. She carries a pitchfork as if It were an extension of her own arm and her hair is cropped close to her head.

"It is pleasure to meet you." Her voice is choppy, irregular, it has some… _accent_.

She is yellow and blue and white, too, but the _wrong _kind. Canada makes a face, scrunches his nose in distaste.

"Germany would be better." He mutters, rudely.

England, for once in his life, is shocked by the actions of his most faithful ward. "Excuse me? Apologize to Ukraine now, Canada. Germany cannot be here, the situation in Europe has escalated, and we are not on friendly terms at the moment."

Canada could not fathom why another nation had to teach him if that was the case, it would be better if a regular Englishman or Frenchman or German taught him, if there were no available and proper nations. But he said nothing about this, he would not speak out of turn again. So Ukraine stays, and she celebrates holidays strangely and she settles her roots and hoes the land, she works around the clock and proved to be healthy and strong in her action. This alone proved her value as a mentor, but Canada also learned how she was the breadbasket of Europe… the _breadbasket_. Out of her hands the peak of civilization fed and sustained themselves, and then, finally, Canada could look at her in awe. Soon he is a shadow of her, he measures himself by her movements and finds joy again in being _someone's. _But as always he is not the apple of anyone's eye.

Ukraine often looked out at the flat fields past the horizon, she stared into the hearth and she observed her food longingly as she ate. Sometimes, when he crossed her door, he could hear ruffling but this was not England, she was not family and Canada was not small, he could not rush in and do his duty to comfort.

One day, Canada wakes up and Ukraine is not in the kitchen. On any other day she would be there, before dawn she would make breakfast and get an early start on the work which needed to be done. An advisor was there in her place, at the table.

Ukraine would no longer join them. It was, as the advisor insisted, a danger. She was now considered an enemy alien, her people rounded up into several internment camps, their property ceased. But weren't they Canadians, too? Weren't they like Ukraine, yellow and blue and white? Demurely, Canada excuses himself. He goes to the bathroom, meets with his own reflection.

When he catches a glimpse, he does not recognize himself anymore. He does not recognize the planes of his ancestors, the great lakes or the great white north, he no longer recalls the bison or Cree or how the world was actually a whole lot wider before, and he forgets what it meant to be anything at all.

All that was left was yellow, purple and white.

* * *

**A/N**

**This one-shot is based on a mix of actual history (albeit lighter version of it) and the manga/anime of Hetalia. Canada's immigration policies were very strict until they let eastern Europeans come in to farm the west, and during/just after WWI there were internment camps for Ukrainians and other Slavic-descended in Canada. I think racism isn't highlighted enough in the fandom, even the "dark/sad" fics hardly touch on the subject. Anyways, all reviews will be appreciated!**


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